The Beginning
by RndmPeep
Summary: TASM: Book 1. The beginning of The Adventures of Strider and Medlineth, accounting their first meeting and the early years of their friendship. Eventual romance in later books, Aragorn/OC.
1. Ch 1: An Unexpected Meeting

**Disclaimer:** The following is a work of (fan)fiction. All intellectual property belongs to its respective owners, just as my original characters and situations would belong to me.

 **A/N:** I am not a writer by trade, but I gladly welcome any constructive criticism. I've been searching for a story similar to this for many years, but upon failing that, I have taken it upon myself to write that which I have so desperately craved. Please offer your honest criticisms, and if anyone would like to beta, please PM me.

But enough with that! On with the show!

 **Prologue: An Introduction**

Herein follows the beginning of The Adventures of Strider and Medlineth, accounting their first meeting and the early years of their friendship. Their story became legend among the free peoples of Middle Earth. Written into song by the minstrels, it is a tale that survived even into this age, beyond the changing of their world.

Most of what we know about those who went by 'Strider' and 'Medlineth' is concerned with their exploits during the War of the Ring, or their reign afterwords. Below is recorded what little knowledge we have of the early years of their lives.

 **Chapter 1: An Unexpected Interruption**

One month.

For one long month, Estel of Rivendell drifted into restless sleep on the hard ground. And each night, he would always find a stick under his back, or if not a stick, some sharp rock or other nuisance to keep him awake at night. It made him long for his warm, down-soft bed in Rivendell, where his mother waited patiently for his return and his foster-father kept watch over the peaceful valley.

But alas, he had come out with his companions on an extended hunt, against the foul creatures plaguing Eriador-goblins and orcs leaving destruction and death in their wake.

The hunting party was small, but powerful. The group was only thirty strong, lead by Elladan and Elrohir, the identical twin sons of Lord Elrond. Estel was the only human among them; his companions were all several millennia his senior.

As his foster-brothers, Elladan and Elrohir taught him in arms and in tracking and survival, and Estel learned much of the healing arts from Lord Elrond himself. With Spring ending, and Estel coming into his eighteenth summer, it was decided that Estel's training had come to its completion. It was a long time in coming; he had never been away from home for longer than a week on the occasional hunt for game with his brothers to restock the kitchen larders.

But darkness was rising amongst the northern plains of Arda, and reports of orcs and brigands had come to Elrond from the Dúnedain. In addition to aiding the north, the expedition would allow the young man to practice his skills, and allow his brothers gauge his abilities.

Nearby, his foster-brothers conversed quietly, keeping a watch over the nightly forest around them.

"He is rash and quick to action." Elladan was biting to his identical twin. "He can be given responsibility when he can be trusted with doing his part."

"Patience," Elrohir was quick to reply, "He is of but eighteen winters, we cannot expect him to learn in a few months what it took us centuries to experience."

"But he does not have centuries, Elrohir! His destiny will not wait for him to learn." Elladan stared into the darkness with an intense glare, as if he meant to ward the future off with his own eyes.

Elrohir pondered this for a minute, before carefully saying "That is why he is with us here, Dan. We must teach him as much as we can." With that, Elrohir walked off to his bedroll laid near Estel, leaving Elladan to finish the watch.

When Elrohir had finally removed his weapons, he turned to face the sleeping form of his human brother, who looked wan with many nights of poor sleep. With his eyes, he traced the features of his dear friend Arathorn in the son Aragorn, who was not to know of his name or heritage until he had proven the maturity and strength to carry the heavy burden left to the last in a line of kings-the last hope of a bereft people.

A week passed in the same manner as before-tracking, camping, sleeping, and waking up to do it all over again. Lord Elrond, Estel's foster father, had received reports about a particularly large and troublesome group of goblins who had come out of the Misty Mountains and had been causing great upheaval in the northern realms of men. The group from Rivendell was sent out to aid in tracking them down and dispelling the threat.

In the early hours of that morning a week later, Estel was keeping the watch with Elrohir when a blinding light broke through the trees directly ahead of him. A wave of wind shot out from it, accompanied by a soft peal of deep tones, causing the rest of the company to startle awake in their bedrolls.

Estel was alarmed, but smart. He leapt to his feet when the light came, and made for the treeline at the presence of the wind before Elrohir could say anything. Unwilling to take his eyes away from a possible threat, he drew his sword and moved past the edge of the clearing towards the source of the light. He moved so that he could see the thing straight on, and lifted his empty hand to shield his eyes. The resonating bell tones seemed to emanate from the swirling cloud-like light, and it hovered as if it were suspended a few feet above the ground.

With the armed company coming up behind him, Estel took two steps toward it when it suddenly dimmed significantly, leaving the form of a strangely dressed woman standing between two oaks.

Estel stared at her, and in that moment some strange weight settled in his heart. He would not understand it for many years, but that woman's destiny was entwined with his own.

The rest of the light faded from her features and the woman opened her eyes and gasped, as though she had been under water and had just come to the surface. Her hand came up to her chest as she tried to get her breathing under control as she fell hard to her trouser-clad knees. She looked up at the strangers in front of her who carried drawn swords; her eyes widened, and the combination of shock and near asphyxiation caused her to fall forward on her face in a dead faint.

Estel snapped into action when the women passed out, ignoring Elladan's cry for caution. Rushing to her side, he set his sword down on the ground next to him. He hovered his hands over her, trying to assess if she was injured before he grabbed her shoulders and rolled her onto her back.

Estel traced his fingers along her neck and head for swelling and breaks as Elrohir approached.

"Is she okay?" He asked his younger brother, kneeling down by the woman.

He settled one hand on the side of her face to keep her head steady. "She is unconscious, but I can sense no obvious injuries," Estel said, looking up to his brother.

"Then let us bring her back to camp. We can at least give her somewhere to rest until we can find out what has happened to her. Do you think you can carry her?" Elrohir asked, settling a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"Aye. She's no small maiden, but she's no burly soldier either."

So with help from his brother, Estel managed to wrap his arms under her knees and around her back, and lifted the strange woman in his arms. Her head fell into the crook of his neck and rested against his chest.

And so Aragorn, son of Arathorn, ignorant of his destiny or significance, carried his future wife to the elvish camp.


	2. Ch 2: Cincinnati, Ohio

**Disclaimer:** The following is a work of (fan)fiction. All intellectual property belongs to its respective owners, just as my original characters and situations would belong to me.

 **Chapter 2: Cincinnati, Ohio**

Sophia Smith was a normal girl. At eighteen years old, she had just graduated in the top ten percent of her high school class and was currently searching for summer jobs before university in the fall.

She considered herself remarkably plain, and that suited her just fine. She was curvier than those thin popular girls, and had no interest in flirting with immature teen boys. Her eyebrows were bushy and her hair was straight and brown (when she let it out of her bun), and her face was unremarkable. In fact, everything about her features was unremarkable—except for her eyes, which were blue, blue-grey, or blue-green (depending on the day and what she was wearing) and had a dark ring lining the edge of her irises.

She didn't have many friends, but that suited her just fine too. Instead, she focused on her family. Her parents weren't perfect, and as the oldest child, she chose to be jaded on the subject of humanity's short-comings. A cynical point of view to take, but one that protected her from heartbreak and disappointment. She was simply realistic, she told herself, and focused her energy on her siblings instead of making friends.

They were the two people in the world that Sophia would do anything for. As much as they fought (as siblings always do), she'd be the first to step in between them and the line of fire if there were ever in danger. She would take a bullet, would stop a train, would turn back time itself for them.

And if there were ever any crisis to befall them, Sophia was the person they looked to for answers and leadership, even before their father and mother.

She had just gotten home from submitting a job application in the local library, and walked into the dining room. The table was set for dinner, and by the smells coming from the adjacent kitchen, it was nearly done.

Her mother poked her head in from the den, duster in hand and curly hair pulled into a bun. She smiled when she saw her eldest and greeted her: "Hey Sophie, you got home just in time. You're father's about to pull dinner off the stove," she tucked a few stray stands behind her ear, "and I was cleaning up the computer desk. Go tell your brother and sister to wash up and take a seat."

Sophia smiled and asked "Do you know what we're having tonight?"

"Steak and asparagus," came the answer from behind her. Her dad waltzed into the living room with tongs and a pan of juicy steaks-the smell made her mouth water and it looked divine.

While her dad was plating the food and her mom was washing up, Sophia went upstairs to bug her siblings into coming down for dinner. Like most nights, they were seated, said Grace, and dug in, talking about their days and laughing and enjoying each others company.

When a light flashed in the backyard, none of them took notice. But a blast of wind rattled the windows, causing her father to pause in the middle of his work tale.

A look out the dining room window confirmed that there was no inclement weather. The sky was clear and blue, but the tree outside was lit up as though there was a high powered flashlight shining on it from the backyard. Both Sophia and her father stood up to make their way to the back door. Through the kitchen and the mudroom, they finally saw the source-it looked like a flame, but bright white, without defined edges. It was when she opened the door that she finally hear them: bells. They were deep and resonant, reverberating inside her chest.

She stepped closer to the thing, her father at her shoulder and the rest of their family watching from the stoop.

But something happened then. The slow bell sounds seemed to feel louder, though she didn't hear any difference. Instead, the feeling in her chest grew more intense, and it started becoming difficult to breathe. It became harder to take in air, and her lungs began to burn with deprivation when the light seemed to explode.

The light whited out her vision and enveloped her body. It warmed her down to her toes before it suddenly blinked out and when it was gone she could breathe again; she saw a company of men in front of her, holding swords as weapons. Her hand flew up to her chest, and between the shock of the threat and the struggle to breathe, her vision tunneled. The forest floor flew up to meet her, and she blacked out just before impact.

And left behind, in another world, a little yellow house was left in the gathering dusk with the back door ajar and unfinished steaks on the table. The family of five had vanished without a trace.


	3. Ch 3: A Brave New World

**Disclaimer:** The following is a work of (fan)fiction. All intellectual property belongs to its respective owners, just as my original characters and situations would belong to me.

 **Chapter 3: A Brave New World**

The girl was the subject of much speculation when she was brought back to camp. Estel placed her on a spare blanket that Elrohir had laid out near the fire, and went about checking her for injuries more thoroughly. While the entire company had a rudimentary knowledge of healing, the three sons of Elrond were the resident experts—their father wasn't considered the greatest healer in Arda without reason.

Having found nothing more than a lump on her head from where it made contact with the ground, Estel sat back with the intention of waiting for her to wake. After all, she seemed to be a harmless young girl, although her clothing seemed strange to him. The trousers she wore were made of a tough blue fabric that were downright scandalous—they didn't even reach her knees; but the strange, plain dark shirt (who would ever cut the sleeves off a perfectly good tunic?) seemed much softer than those he was himself used to as the son of a lord. Her footwear was definitely not leather, and she wore a silver ring with strange writing around a large blue stone on her right hand.

As strange as it was, he did not think her a threat. Everything about her seemed foreign. Not necessarily bad, just foreign.

Elladan did not agree. He tossed a length of rope to Estel.

"Bind her hands," he said to his young brother. At Estel's astonished look, he continued "We do not know how she came to be here or where she hails from. The enemy has many spies in his service."

"She is injured, Elladan. Surely that is unnecessary?" Estel said, indignant.

"Injured or not, she is dangerous, and I will not take the risk." Elladan said, with firm finality.

Estel then did as he was bid, however grudgingly. Elladan and Elrohir were in charge of the expedition, and their word was law while with the company of elves.

It was hours later when dawn started to creep over the horizon, and the girl began to stir.

Estel watched as her face screwed up against the first rays of sunlight. She tried to bring a hand up to her face, but couldn't succeed without bringing the other as well. This realization had her startling awake, and she used her elbow to push herself into a sitting position.

She was recalling the earlier events, and was on the verge of panic. She swung her head around, trying to absorb her surroundings. She must've been kidnapped by these strange people. Was she being trafficked? Was she going to die? Oh God! Where was her family!? What if something happened to them-!?

In her mad rush to observe everything, she didn't notice the young man sitting right in front of her. For all her adrenaline filled senses, she didn't register him until he shifted in place.

He had seen her panic, and how she was beginning to hyperventilate. He moved up to his knees, noticing how her head snapped to him when he did. He lifted a hand to check her head injury, but she jerked away to keep him from making contact. He closed the hand and dropped it to his side.

He focused his eyes on her face and offered her a small smile. "Hello." She eyed him as though he was a talking dog instead of a man. "My name is Estel. What's your name?"

She didn't answer right away, instead taking the time to slow her breathing down, but refusing to lose eye contact. She pulled her knees up to her chest and leaned on them.

Estel asked her name again. This time she answered: "Sophia."

He smiled. "That is not a name I have heard before, Sophia. Where did you come from?"

"Why wouldn't you know?" Fear was quickly replaced by anger, and she was going to use it. Anger meant action, something she could deal with. "Where is my family? Where are my brother and sister, I swear, you damn psycho, if you touch them you'll wish you've never been born."

He regarded her for a moment before responding, trying to project a calm face for her and keep his voice measured. "We didn't do anything. We found you a few hours ago amongst the trees, from a bright light."

"But where are my family? They were with me, they can't be far!" her voice cracked with desperation.

Estel looked on her with sympathy; he loved his brother's dearly. And looking into her heart, he felt how genuine her concern was. So he pulled the knife from the small of his back.

When she saw the knife, her eyes grew wide and her face displayed her fear openly. In her panic at the weapon, she tried to scoot backwards from the young stranger.

Estel rose to his feet and crossed the two feet she had managed to put in between them, bending down to cut away the rope that was beginning to dig into her wrists from her struggles.

When the rope fell away, Sophia looked up at him with no little confusion as he put the knife away.

He continued to look down, and seemed to be searching for his next words.

"I do not know you. But I believe that you do not mean us any harm. In fact, you might have been a blessing sent by Eru." A sigh. "But only time will tell."

He turned his head around to look at the two identical men—who must be twins, she realized—gesturing to the forest around them in what looked to be a heated argument. Estel signed through his nose before finally turning to look at the woman.

She was staring at him, and in the firelight he caught sight of her eyes; they looked remarkably blue in the firelight, and her irises were edged in a dark ring—certainly a trait he had never seen before.

Estel shook his head, unconsciously mirroring his foster father by pinching the bridge of his nose. But another flash of blue caught his eye. The rounded stone in the ring on the girl's right ring finger with the strange design. So he sat down a couple of feet away from her and asked her about it, hoping to put her at ease.

She hesitated a moment before answering: "It's my class ring. A gift from my parents to celebrate the end of my studies." She was intentionally choosing words that were vague. These people carried around swords and knives—what could she possibly trust about them?

At his inquisitive look, she held up her hand to show him. She didn't take if off (it was dear to her), but instead tilted it to show the sides off. "See, one side has my school's crest, and the other side has a scroll, to show how seriously I took my studies."

He took her hand and tilted the ring towards the firelight to get a better view of the raised letters. It was certainly not any style of ring he had seen before. He told her so.

Though she was in a strange and frightening situation, Sophia found herself relaxing around this strange young man. Estel was a strange name, and she told him so. He laughed, but told her right back that her name was strange as well. What does Sophia even mean?

"It means wisdom," she said, once her giggle subsided. She arched an eyebrow, which Estel took to mean that she was expecting an answer from him too.

"Estel means hope in elvish."

That certainly caught her attention. "Elvish? There's no such thing."

"There certainly is" he fired back, a smirk on his face. "These are all elves around you."

So that's what those strange men-things were. They were certainly too something not human to be men. She also figured that she must be in shock if she was accepting all these answers without complete denial. It would probably hit her hard after she had a chance to sleep.

The next few hours passed in the same way. Estel would ask her about her odd apparel and Sophia would answer him, and vice versa. He learned that she was wearing jean shorts and came from a place called Sin-si-natty, and she learned that he was out with a hunting party, almost like a coming-of-age ceremony.

That was the scene Elladan and Elrohir came upon when they returned to the campfire. Sunrise was breaking, and they would not break camp like they originally planned due to the new complication sitting near one of the campfires. Sophia raised a hand to stifle a yawn, and Elladan frowned when he saw that she was unbound.

The twins spoke to Estel in a strange language that sounded like soft water, and he answered them back. She just looked between them trying to understand anything that they said. She didn't succeed.

Eventually Estel turned back to her and told her in English (well, Westron, but who was being picky?) that they were to camp in that location another day to decide what they would do with her; bringing her with the hunting party was a poor idea indeed, but there weren't many options for leaving her on her own. There were no villages nearby in this part of Eriador, and she obviously would not survive in the wilderness on her own.

The three left, presumably to talk about her. Sophia finally gave in to the desire to rest. So she moved the blanket she was on a few feet further from the fire to avoid rolling into it, and rested her head on the ground. Normally she never would have considered sleeping on the ground, but the shock and fear was finally catching up to her. Within minutes, she was sleeping restfully.

Meanwhile, Estel was advocating her case to his brothers. But they all knew that truthfully, there was no other option.

She must go with them.


End file.
